


Love Alone

by MoonflowerKuroo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst?, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, ends with fluff ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonflowerKuroo/pseuds/MoonflowerKuroo
Summary: Hanahaki Disease is what Oikawa read. An illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals.He had been thinking since the day he rang Kuroo up in a fit with orange flowers clogging his throat that maybe it’s not as bad as I thought.





	

One sided love or unrequited love; love that is not openly reciprocated or understood as such by the beloved. It’s being in love alone.

_Hanahaki Disease is what Oikawa read. An illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals._

He had been thinking since the day he rang Kuroo up in a fit with orange flowers clogging his throat that _maybe it’s not as bad as I thought._

_“It’s just one sided!”_ he had told himself. _“I’ll get over it!”_

He had thought at the time it was his girlfriend. They had broken up because of it. That, and the added fact as to why all his relationships ended; volleyball. He wasn’t too torn up, hoping that the flowers would finally stop. That he wouldn’t have to cough the flower into his hand and slip it into the sleeve of his blazer.

He felt sick, as anyone would when you’re literally coughing something up. The flowers were so particular too. A marigold with red petals, the tips of the petals orange in colour.

He had time to figure out it wasn’t one sided love for his old girlfriend. The flowers didn’t go away once he broke up with her. He could still feel the roots in his ribs, tangling around the bones and the next flower blossoming underneath his sternum.

Thinking. It’s not something Oikawa’s always been great out. He just _does_ things. He likes spontaneous thing, likes jumping around and sneaking out at night just to look at the stars. He likes random road trips just to see what’s down the street you pass every morning but never go down. He doesn’t like to think unless he needs to and right now, he’s being forced.

He opens his eyes under the water, the lights rippled and muddled from the water. He watches his hair flow like seaweed in the ocean and parts his lips to let out a breath.

Honestly. How do you not realise you’re in love with someone? You can be blinded but it’s a matter of time before you figure it out. And Oikawa had done that. Done to the very last detail.

He loved _Iwaizumi._ It wasn’t just _I love him because he’s my best friend!_ It was raw _I’m in love you and I think I have been since I woke up to you towering over me when we were kids._ He’s been in love ever since the two of them held each other’s hands to fall asleep at two months old.

Oikawa’s mind stops whenever Iwaizumi meets his eyes. His heart races just from Iwaizumi’s fingers brushing against his. His eyes cloud with tears when feels the roots in his ribs shift. He presses his hands against his body, hoping that if he could just reach inside and rip it out like a weed, everything would be fixed.

He laughs underneath the water of the bath. How stupid he must be, being in love with his best friend. He fits the childhood lovers cliche but he has the disease for a reason; _it’s one sided._

He blows out his breath, watching the bubbles float up before he resurfaces with a loud gasp. Water drips from his chin and he heaves a breath as the flower shifts inside him.

“Tooru! Dinner is ready!”

“Coming,” he manages to call back before he feels the flower blossoming in his throat and he hunches his shoulders. 

Some tips of the petals are red and he thinks it’s his blood. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

He sighs, the water draining underneath him.

 

The water is up to Oikawa’s eyes. 

Kuroo sits on the toilet, legs crossed. He sighs before looking at the brunette. He grimaces when Oikawa looks at him and that’s all the confirmation he needs to know he looks utterly pathetic right now.

It bubbles in his throat like dish soap and he coughs under the water, opening his mouth wide. It slips past his teeth and he lets the orange and red marigold float to the top of the water with no reaction.

“Ugh,” Kuroo scoffs, turning his head away. “Don’t do it without warning. That’s just gross.”

Oikawa lifts his head, spitting the water out slowly. He takes another breath before sinking back down into his position. The marigold spins slowly, the orange tips fading into red as they get closer to the middle. Oikawa didn’t know that was possible but it’s right in front of him.

“Look here,” Kuroo says, standing up and sitting on the edge of the tub. His phone screen is bright in his hand. “Orange auras. They mean that the person with that particular aura is hot headed and quick to lose their temper. Sounds like Iwa, don’t it?”

“Iwa-chan isn’t just a bomb waiting to go off,” Oikawa mutters. He draws himself in, slumping on the side of the bath to look up at Kuroo. 

“Keep going.”

“They love to be in the company of others and don’t mind being the centre of attention,” Kuroo says. “Or just another face in the crowd. Is that him?”

“He’d prefer to be another face in the crowd but more or less,” Oikawa says, shrugging.

“They want to please others and are often the best gift givers, being very thoughtful and generous.”

“No,” Oikawa says, shaking his head. “Iwa-chan does things if they’ll benefit him as well. He’ll do a favour for a good friend or family member but that’s about it. And he hates buying gifts because he’s never sure if someone will like it.”

“So let’s do the red aura then,” Kuroo says, pursing his lips. He scrolls up and clears his throat. “Red auras are enthusiastic and energetic individuals, forever on the lookout for new adventures.”

Oikawa tilts his head, shrugging his shoulders. 

“They are adventurous with food, travel and sexual partners,” Kuroo adds and Oikawa shrugs again. “They’ll try anything once. They are quick to anger and can lose their temper over the slightest thing.”

“That’s Iwa-chan,” Oikawa scoffs, sliding back into the water. He at least tries but his chest feels up with the petals and he doubles over, coughing with his hands pressed against his mouth and stomach. He hacks and eventually coughs the marigold into his palm, dripping with water and saliva.

Kuroo slaps him hard on the back before rubbing up his exposed spine. Oikawa shivers, letting the marigold flow into the water. Three petals fall from it, floating in a triangle with the full marigold in the middle.

Oikawa slumps back into the bathtub, his eyes falling closed. “Maybe this isn’t as bad as I thought.”

“You’re coughing up rose bushes, Tooru.” Kuroo sighs, rubbing his eyes. “If you start to choke on thorns, give me a call.”

“Marigolds don’t have thorns,” Oikawa mutters, slipping under the water again.

 

Oikawa loses it in practise. Usually it’s around lunchtime that he coughs up a flower. The rest are at home or when he’s walking home. 

If it happens at practise, he can usually hold it off until he’s in the bathrooms. 

God really hates Oikawa Tooru. 

He ends up practically throwing up marigolds in the corner of the gym when there’s only Matsukawa and Yahaba left. Iwaizumi had left instead of cleaning up, waving his phone with a text from his mum about his grandmother’s birthday dinner. Hanamaki had offered to walk him home so he wouldn’t have to clean up and Matsukawa had been nice enough to stay back to help Oikawa with taping his knee.

_Stop!_ he’s screaming at his body. _Stop it! Stop it now! Stop!_

But it’s too late. There’s six pretty little orange and red marigolds nestled in the corner of the gym once he’s finished coughing up one of his lungs as well and Matsukawa’s hand is on his back, pulling him into his chest.

Oikawa only realised he was crying when Matsukawa shushed him and Yahaba held up a tissue for him. Matsukawa pats his head, looking down at him.

“I won’t tell,” he says, giving a smile. Oikawa’s seen that smile too many times. “It’s weird but it’s alright, Captain.”

“Your secret is safe with us,” Yahaba says, handing him the tissue. He smiles softly, tilting his head. He looks like the innocent kouhai he should be. “I’ll clean up?” he asks Matsukawa.

“If you could,” Matsukawa replies and the setter gives a curt nod before setting off to find a a bag of some sorts to clean up the flowers.

“I-It’s-“ Oikawa begins but his chest restricts him and he feels like he’s being thrown around. His head feels heavy, his mouth feels dry. Why wouldn’t they ask more questions? No one just throws up random flowers but then again, Kuroo had been the same. No one had bothered to press him for details because they were sure Oikawa didn’t even know what it was.

He looks up at Matsukawa who only smiles at him, eyes scrunching up. He presses a finger to his lips, smile growing behind it.

“Be safe,” he says. “Don’t choke. I’ll cover you if it happens again.”

Oikawa screws his fists up in Matsukawa’s shirt, pressing his head against his chest. Matsukawa pats his head, craning his head up and sighing.

 

And he did cover. A little flamboyantly but he covered. So did Yahaba.

Oikawa had started coughing, Iwaizumi giving him a look of concern. He walks over to Oikawa, raising a hand to touch his shoulder but Matsukawa races in.

“Iwa, I think Kyoutani could use some help spiking!” he calls, giving a smirk.

Kyoutani scowls at him, throwing the ball at his chest. “What’re you talking about?” he snaps and Yahaba comes over to Oikawa while Iwaizumi is facing the other way.

“The flow-“ Oikawa tries to speak but it ends with a throaty cough. Yahaba understands either way and takes his arm over his shoulder. 

“I’m going to take Oikawa-senpai out for some fresh air!” he calls to their coach who only nods and waves them off. Oikawa is still coughing and a petal escapes his fingers. Hanamaki is quick to step back, crushing the petal underneath his shoe as he prepares to toss a ball. He looks at Oikawa, a look he’s always given Oikawa when he wants to say _I’ve got your back_ and Oikawa finally coughs up the flower once Yahaba has him outside.

“Are you okay?” the kouhai setter asks a little frantically as Oikawa sits on the stairs. Oikawa blinks slowly down at the flower in his hand and sniffs.

“I’m okay,” he replies, glancing up at Yahaba. He crushes the flower in his palm and throws it into the garden. He watches it as it bounces slightly before disappearing into the leaves of the small bushes. He buries his hands into his hair, pulling on it tightly. “Iwa-cha’s gonna be so suss with me!”

“Suss?” Yahaba frowns. “What does that me-“

“Suspicious,” comes Hanamaki’s voice and a water bottle is pressed against Oikawa’s neck. He jumps, untangling his hands from his hair to look at the pink haired boy. “And I am too but Matssun don’t seem to know so I guess you don’t either, huh, Oikawa?”

The captain takes the drink bottle, trying to sooth his throat but it doesn’t work. His insides feels like a slushy and his throat feels like sandpaper.

“A flower,” Hanamaki says quietly, looking at the garden where he threw it. “Red and orange marigold, was it?”

“One word about this-“ Oikawa begins to warn but Hanamaki pushes his face away with a grin.

“Relax,” he laughs, slipping an arm over his shoulders. “Your secret is safe with me, Captain. It’s just weird. That’s the only reason I’m interested. Why is Oikawa Tooru coughing up flower crowns?”

Oikawa finds himself leaning against Hanamaki and he feels weak. Yahaba bows, heading into gym again. Hanamaki’s hand tangles in his hair, a soothing silence falling over them as Oikawa closes his eyes.

“You coming back in?” It’s Matsukawa, trying to sound normal and somehow pulling it off.

“Yeah, in a minute,” Hanamaki responds. He takes the drink bottle from Oikawa and stands up. He offers him his hand, the two of them heading into the gym. Hanamaki stops, scraping his foot on the concrete outside before coming in.

An orange and red petal is mushed into the rocky cement when Oikawa leaves that night with Iwaizumi.

 

“The fact that it’s called _Hanahaki disease_ is rude.”

“Write a fucking complaint then, Hanamaki.”

The wing spiker shrugs, leaning back on his chair. He sips his juice box, looking out the window. Matsukawa sits on the floor, laptop in front of him. Oikawa sighs, slumping against the desk with his phone in his hand.

“… The patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love…” Matsukawa mumbles. “I’m sure you already knew that?”

“He’s pretty dense,” Hanamaki says, chewing on the straw of his juice box. Oikawa smacks his head on the table.

“Yeah, I knew that,” Oikawa mutters. “That’s why I dumped my girlfriend.”

“Yeesh,” Hanamaki says, side eyeing him. “But you’re still coughing up the botanical gardens. So who is it?”

“It’s Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa says, a little too snappily. “Who else would it be?”

“Thanks,” Oikawa growls, turning his head to look out the window. He sighs, feeling his chest fill up but it stops suddenly. He takes a deep inhale of the fresh air blowing through the open window, feeling Hanamaki try to balance his juice box on his head.

“Surgery?” Matsukawa asks, looking up at them. “The feelings will go away.”

“Considered it,” Oikawa replies, closing his eyes. “Then I figured _maybe it’s not as bad as I thought._ ”

“You considered that before the cost,” Hanamaki chuckles. “Nice, dude.”

“You can’t hide it forever,” Matsukawa says, earning a sigh from Hanamaki and Oikawa both.

The wind blows his hair back, knocking the juice box off his head. He wonders about Iwaizumi, wonders where he is. _At the gym with the first years,_ Matsukawa had told him.

He thinks about how strong Iwaizumi is. How he can do just about anything. How great Oikawa thinks he is. Iwaizumi would brush any form of compliment, and he was surprising smooth. 

You’d never expect it from how prickly he seems but when girls comes up to him, he’d compliment them before politely turning them down. Oikawa never had to chase any girls away because of his own jealously.

_“I appreciate you having the courage to come out and talk to me. It’s very brave of you, and I admire that. But at this point in time, I’m not looking for a relationship. Thank you anyway, and good luck.”_

Oikawa had heard that while hiding behind a thick pillar in the school courtyard. The girl had of course cried, but Iwaizumi had been so gentle with her.

_“Why don’t we sit down? I’ll stay with you until you’re ready to go home.”_

Oikawa had screwed up his face, much he was doing right now and let out a sharp breath. _No wonder she fell for him,_ his mind had said. _He’s everything you’d want. Smart, strong, funny, gentle, sweet, athletic…_

He crossed his arms, screwing up his nose. He left the court yard in a huff, red faced and heavy.

“He’s just that kind of guy,” Hanamaki says, sniffing when the juice box falls from Oikawa’s head and the brunette almost thinks Hanamaki read his mind. “Pros of being Iwaizumi Hajime.” He numbers his fingers off. “Attractive. Strong. Athletic. Smart. Funny. Kinda dumb sometimes but aren’t we all?”

“Iwa-chan isn’t dumb!” Oikawa snaps, shooting up from the table. “He’s just dense sometimes…”

“Excuse me?”

Oikawa’s eyes widen and he turns to face the doorway of the classroom. Iwaizumi is there, signature frown on his brow. Hanamaki leans back in his chair again, laughing loudly.

“The ace and his captain!” he chuckles before Oikawa stands slowly, slamming his fist down into Hanamaki’s stomach. The wing spiker spits, his chair wobbling. He screams when the chair slips out from under him, splaying his long legs out in different directions.

Oikawa’s eyes are narrowed, along with Iwaizumi’s. He smiles at Hanamaki, sickeningly sweet and waves at him.

“Thanks for the chat, Makki!” he smiles, waving a peace sign at him. Iwaizumi turns to let Oikawa through, looking at him.

“First years wanted advice from Iwaizumi-senpai?” Oikawa asks, smiling at him. His chest fills up, roots tangling in his ribs and he thinks he might just collapse on the spot and wait for someone to bury him in the dirt.

“…Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, setting off and walking next to him. He looks skeptical but he doesn’t voice it. Oikawa only smiles at him, clearing his throat in hopes of pushing the marigold back down.

Once the bell rings and they part to head to different classes, Oikawa throws up four flowers in the bin outside his math classroom.

 

It gets worse.

He can’t hold it in anymore. The roots tighten around his bones and he chokes. 

He chokes, just like Matsukawa told him not to but he can’t hold it in anymore. He coughs, sputters, chokes and curses. He’s sweating, hand on his throat while the other struggles to keep him up right. He wheezes, his eyes hazing over. 

He feels himself falling but doesn’t feel himself hit the ground. It’s the locker room where he falls, reaching out for the door. He curls in on himself, coughing as his entire body shakes and shivers.

Oikawa doesn’t hear the door open, but does hear the yelling of Iwaizumi and Matsukawa as they sit him up.

He finally coughs up a flower, coated with blood behind he collapses back against the locker, two petals sat to his face and shirt. Matsukawa makes it to him first.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi breathes, grabbing his face. “Hey, Oikawa! You there?”

Matsukawa’s hand closes over the flower and neither of them are sure if Iwaizumi saw it but the petals on Oikawa that Iwaizumi brushes away is enough to make them worry.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says again, gripping his face. “Hey, it’s me. It’s me, Hajime. Iwa-chan. Are you okay?”

Oikawa’s eyes are heavy and he stares at Iwaizumi before nodding. He opens his mouth but Iwaizumi shushes him, lifting him up and drawing Oikawa’s arm over his shoulder.

“I need-“ Oikawa tries but ends up swallowing thickly. Matsukawa races out, spinning Hanamaki on the spot before yelling something about water. Hanamaki makes a weird face, looking like a deer in the headlight as he shifts on his feet. Iwaizumi sits Oikawa down, looking up at him.

“Squeeze my hand if it hurts,” he says, taking Oikawa’s hand. The setter stares at him, dazed, before weakly squeezing his hand.

Iwaizumi drops his head. “It’s been happening for a while, yes? Once for yes.”

Oikawa squeezes his hand, dropping his head onto Iwaizumi’s. “I’m sorry…” he whispers. Iwaizumi nudges his head and looks up.

“Won’t you let me take care of you?” he asks and Oikawa feels his throat clog up. “You should have told me you were sick. You can’t push yourself.”

Oikawa screws up his face, tears threatening to fall and they do. Iwaizumi’s thumb swipes underneath his eyes and he smiles softly at Oikawa.

“That’s a yes?” he asks and Oikawa squeezes his hand.

 

“You could just tell him?”

Oikawa rolls his eyes, burying his nose into his scarf. Kuroo is still no help. He sits there, hands behind his head. They’re at a bus station, too lazy to walk home.

“And where would that get me, Tetsu-chan?” he just about barks, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been in love with him, basically from the moment I met him and if I confess, he’ll just brush it off. Eighteen years of feelings, down the drain.”

“You don’t know that,” Kuroo says and he sounds like he’s about to give an anecdote. Oikawa watches him, waiting for one but it never comes.

“You’re so melodramatic sometimes,” he grumbles, turning his head.

“And you’re not?” Kuroo growls back, opening one eye to look at him. “Tooru, you could sit around here, choking on your grandmother’s garden bed or you could tell him and see how far that gets you. You’re not getting surgery unless it’s your knee so what’s the harm? What will it _not_ get you?”

“Happiness,” Oikawa offers and Kuroo’s scoff rings through his ears.

“Happiness,” he echoes, shaking his head. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“You’re not the one wanting to shove a weedwhacker down your throat, are you?” Oikawa jabs, sending him a glare.

“No, but I am the one who has a habit of falling in love with his best friends,” Kuroo replies, lifting his chin. He drops his hands onto the backs of the chairs and sighs. “I told you about Bokuto, didn’t I?”

“Of course,” Oikawa scoffs, crossing his legs. “Best friends who didn’t know where the line was.”

“And we figured it and called it quits before it got serious,” Kuroo says. “Kenma and I are different. I’ve always known where the lines were. It just took me so long to cross the line to get into his world.”

“I know what he means when he says your speeches are lame,” Oikawa grumbles, crossing his arms as well. “I know where the line is with me and Iwa-chan. It’s where _don’t fuck up this relationship_ is painted in big letters, Tetsu-chan.”

Kuroo sighs, dropping his head back. He checks his watch that probably costs more than his entire school fees and sighs again. He stands up, cracking his back. 

“I gotta go now if I wanna get back to Tokyo before two,” he says, looking at Oikawa. “I hope you take something from this.”

“Just go,” Oikawa snaps, tossing his head. Kuroo shakes his head, tapping the tip of his shoe on the pavement before pursing his lips and heading for the train station.

 

 

“A bouquet of spit, marigold and maybe a hint of blood.”

Kuroo frowns at the piles of marigolds on Oikawa’s desk. “Charming,” he deadpans, throwing down his bag. Oikawa groans from his bed, clutching his stomach with a hot water bottle pressed to his stomach.

“Why are you e-even _here?”_ Oikawa wheezes out.

“Karasuno’s first year invited me down. Played a match with his older brother.” Kuroo sits on the side of his bed, reaching out and burying his hand into Oikawa’s hair. “And then I get a text from little old you that you probably don’t remember sending.”

“Vaguely,” Oikawa growls, his throat protesting against every word.

“You’re not going to like me saying this but I think you should do it soon. You’re getting weak.”

“I’m fine,” Oikawa says but he feels empty just from speaking. His head feels like dead weight against the pillow and he’s scared to stand up in case his legs just give out from underneath him and he falls to the floor.

“How did it get to be so fucked up…?” he wheezes, sweat dripping from his forehead. He laughs weakly and bitterly and swallows. 

“This is just sad,” Kuroo says, wincing slightly. “Come on, sit up. You’re sweating through your shirt.”

Oikawa obeys, raising his arms slowly. His ribs ache in protest but he closes his eyes, allowing Kuroo to pull his shirt over his head and toss it on the floor.

“I’ll get you a cool cloth to put on your forehead,” the Nekoma captain says and Oikawa only yawns in response. He feels like he has tonsillitis and he shivers at the thought.

He lays down on his bed again, closing his eyes. He sighs, letting his body sink into his bed. He hears the sink turn on and Kuroo’s distant humming. 

He manages to nap in the time it takes for Kuroo to wet a rag for him but he frowns when he hears a knock at the door. The tap turns off and he hears Kuroo walking down the stairs.

Oikawa shoots up when he hears Iwaizumi’s voice and swallows. He can hear Kuroo talking and feels his chest start to close up.

_“Karasuno first….? But you’re here?”_

_“For him. He’s been… It’s difficult to explain. He didn’t want to tell you so I’m here.”_

_“I get that but… Oikawa’s always been like that. No, it’s okay. I’m not angry, Kuroo.”_

_“Just be gentle with him… He’s more fragile than I would have originally thought, Iwaizumi.”_

“More fragile…?” Oikawa growls under his breath. He looks down at his feet that are dangling just above the floor and swallows. He feels like his entire body is glass and if he trips, he’ll shatter.

The footsteps up the stairs are the ones Oikawa’s heard for years and he looks up to see Iwaizumi in the doorway. He steps forward but Oikawa throws his hand out.

“I want to do it myself,” he pants, cracking his toes before pressing one foot to the ground. Iwaizumi watches him in silence, his eyes calculating and careful. He wriggles his fingers, and Oikawa knows he’s ready to catch him if he falls.

Oikawa stands to his full height and takes a deep breath. The roots are thick and strangling. He scratches his rib, wishing his touch burned through his skin to the plant but it doesn’t. One can only dream.

His breath catches in his throat and he feels himself fall. Iwaizumi is there in an instant, catching him in his arms and collapsing onto the floor, Oikawa pressed against his chest.

The setter hics and sobs, hands grabbing and scratching at Iwaizumi’s jacket. The ace doesn’t talk.

Oikawa feels his throat clog up and just gives up at this point. 

Though, the marigold doesn’t come and he frowns. 

His throat clears, surprisingly, and he pulls away from Iwaizumi. His green eyes are calm as he looks at Oikawa and the brunette swallows.

“I told you I’d take care of you,” Iwaizumi says and Oikawa begins to cry again. He grips Iwaizumi’s jacket at the front, clenching his teeth tightly. He looks up at Iwaizumi, eyes stinging.

“I-I wanted to you to,” he replies, scowl on his brow. He’s angry at himself, at the roots in his ribs, at the marigolds on his desk and the marigold that’s in the garden at Aoba Johsai. He’s angry at Kuroo for not going back to Tokyo when he said he would. He’s angry at Hanamaki for the juice box on his head. He’s even angry at Matsukawa for covering for him.

He’s mostly angry at how pathetic he’s being. Oikawa’s had a habit of doing that. 

“I c-couldn’t call,” Oikawa says and Iwaizumi’s brows furrow with concern. “I wanted t-to but I couldn’t do it.”

“Call me,” Iwaizumi repeats, his eyes focusing on only Oikawa. “Tell me now. What do you want to tell me?”

Oikawa could say it. He could say it right now and be done with it. The feeling of rejection and pity will swallow him whole and Iwaizumi will leave and he’ll never see him again.

_Maybe it’s not as bad as I thought,_ he thinks again and feels the roots loosen. Iwaizumi keeps staring and Oikawa only straightens.

“I’ve been grappling with things,” he says, voice somehow firm. “Feelings. All kinds of them. About how much I hate all these different things. How weak I feel and what exactly it is that I feel.” 

“Tell me,” Iwaizumi says again, pressing his forehead against Oikawa’s. “You’re not delicate. Kuroo thought wrong and I know that.”

“You know that,” Oikawa echoes with a little smile. He looks at Iwaizumi, his eyes warm. Iwaizumi waits as long as Oikawa will take, and the setter feels Iwaizumi’s shoulders loosen when he speaks again.

“I talked myself out of it,” he says, huffing a laugh. “It hurt. And I realised why.”

Iwaizumi presses himself closer, frown deepening. Oikawa draws his hand over his on his thigh and blinks slowly.

“It hurt because I was in love,” he finally says and Iwaizumi’s head snaps up.

And that’s it. It’s the look that Oikawa had been anticipating all this time. Iwaizumi’s eyes are wide, his mouth slightly parted. He’s blinking but he’s frozen, hand underneath Oikawa’s while the other is next to him. He doesn’t say anything, only stares in shock or disbelief. Oikawa isn’t sure anymore.

“You’re in love,” Iwaizumi finally says and Oikawa nods. He lifts his head, straightening his back and Iwaizumi does the same. Oikawa cracks his neck, squinting at the marigolds on his desk.

“I am.” He turns and looks at Iwaizumi again, smiling at him. “Don’t think it’s with another girl. It’s you. And it’s taken too long for me to say that.”

“With me,” Iwaizumi says, his face relaxing. Oikawa slumps down slowly, watching as Iwaizumi shifts his hand and tangles his fingers in Oikawa’s. His eyes widen a little bit and he looks at Iwaizumi who only gives a little smile.

“You’ll grow up one day,” he says. “And I’ll be there to hold your hand. At least, I hope to be.” He smiles at Oikawa, eyes scrunching up. “And I think if I want that, that must mean I’m in love too.”

Oikawa furrows his brows as his eyes well up again and he feels the roots snap in his chest. They flake away as he clutches onto Iwaizumi’s jacket and pulls him in. As the marigolds burn up and disappear in his chest, he loosens and the strength returns to his heart and into his bones. Iwaizumi gives a short yelp before Oikawa pulls him down with him to the ground.

“I’m in love!” Oikawa announces, laughing in Iwaizumi’s ear as the ace tries to steady himself. He leans on his hands next to Oikawa’s head, looking down at him.

Oikawa gives him the biggest smile he’s ever given anyone and Iwaizumi falls even more. He stares up at Iwaizumi before raking one hand through his short hair, gripping it at the back and pulling his head down roughly.

“Careful,” Iwaizumi whispers, tilting his head. Oikawa purses his lips before averting his eyes.

“Sorry,” Oikawa says, looking back up at him. “I had a lot of-“

“Issues?”

Oikawa’s face drops and he sighs. “Yes. ‘Issues’.” He smiles up at him again, stroking his thumb over his cheek. “I’ll be okay.” 

“You better be,” Iwaizumi grumbles. He tilts his head, frowning down at him. “Or else I’ll have to take care of you.”

“You make it sound bad,” Oikawa says, pursing his lips. He looks away, feeling his face heat up. “Thank you, though… For being with me.”

“Who would I be if I didn’t?” Iwaizumi smiles at him, the same smile Oikawa’s fallen for all this time.

“Come here before I start crying again,” Oikawa whispers, already wiping at one of his eyes. Iwaizumi’s smile grows and all Oikawa sees is that smile before Iwaizumi presses his lips against his.

**Author's Note:**

> *wipes sweat from brow* i wrote this last year when i was deathly ill with tonsillitis. i had read a bnha fic based on this disease a while back and it always stuck with me so i dug through my drafts and found what i first started with and here it is lol. tell me what you though, please!


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